


A Bakura Novella

by IllOmen



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Inner Dialogue, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllOmen/pseuds/IllOmen
Summary: Just stretching my legs as I get back into writing. An inner monologue of Ryou musing.





	A Bakura Novella

With every day that passes, the darkness spreads. It's oozing up through the floorboards and collecting on the window sills like rain begging to be let in. I used to be afraid of its strength, the things it was capable of. Or rather, the things it made me capable of. I used to scream.

But now, when I open my mouth to speak, it fills my throat and silences me. I struggle to remember the last time I had a voice. Here, in the void of sound, I feel no fear. Only cool contemplation. 

I've been trapped here for so long. On the inside looking out through foggy mornings filled with shadows that stretch too long and at odd angles. 

I wonder if anyone remembers my name. Sometimes I can hear it echoing like a cruel reminder of who I was. Because this thing that isn't me, is me. It turns inwards on itself, just to toss me cruelty. Biting insults and hurtful memories play on repeat. It takes a fistful of my hair and pushes me into the dirt and I taste blood on my tongue all. the. time. 

In the precious moments when I might regain control, however temporarily, I consider extinguishing the flame for I am nothing more than a host now. But that's when its abuse turns tender. I wonder if it is only self preservation. Even so, I always surrender to its honey drenched caresses and kisses still tainted with copper. 

It tells me that I have a purpose now, because I never did before. That we are doing this together, to make a better world. It says it uses my voice because I was always too timid to be heard. It tells me that I am no host, that this is symbiosis. That we are equal parts...

In the beginning my chest would burn and my skin would crawl with pure revulsion when it touched me. Now I welcome the contact. Where I used to clench my throat to keep the bile from reaching the back of my tongue, a warmth now spreads. 

This is the power it holds. The ability to turn acid to wine and abhorrence to affection. I have become a nameless, faceless entity. It has taken everything and left me with only the spreading blackness. 

What else could I do but tend it? I toss the windows open and let it consume me. Fill my lungs with its heady smoke while it binds my wrists with branches of barbed wire. But it's in the darkest night that I notice a pin of light in the distance. 

Maybe I am not forgotten...


End file.
